I stumble, taking half a step back as though he’s punched me. A million wasps buzz in my belly and ears until I think I’m going to throw up. “Why?”
He meets my gaze. “Honey, this is not where you belong.”
That hurts again, but I cling to what I heard—that the managers thought I was good enough to be promoted my first year. I try to calm my racing heart, the furious roaring in my head. “I don’t belong here?” I ask shakily.
“No. You belong with a man who’s going to spoil rotten and treat you like a queen.”
Wow. Sexist much? I’ve dealt with enough sexism in my life, but coming from my dad, it’s extra hard. He adores Mom, and he’s always been a great dad. “Do you think I went to the University of Chicago and studied mathematics so I can be somebody’s trophy wife?”
“I’m not saying you should be someone’s trophy wife. You’re good enough to be your man’s equal. And your education isn’t wasted. You meet a lot of eligible men while in college. Besides, men of certain social standing and ambition do not want some barely literate high school graduate.”
I don’t even recognize my dad right now. Who is this person from half a century ago? He was so proud of me when I got accepted to college, but it…it wasn’t about me? It was about my marriage prospects? Everything inside me is shaking so hard that it takes a while to gather myself. “Have you ever considered the fact that maybe I want to stand on my own, without a man’s name or money behind me?”
“Of course. That’s why I gave you a job, so you could get a taste of it. You did, too. The stress is awful for you, and you and I both learned you don’t handle it well. It’s been giving you indigestion for the last few years.”
My molars grind together so hard that the muscles in my jaw start aching. “Yeah, because I was stressed out that no matter what I do, I’m simply not good enough!” My voice is nearly shrill despite my desperate attempt to keep it quiet and as unemotional as possible. Being emotional is bad in finance, especially if you’re a woman.
“It’ll be your man’s duty to work and take care of you,” he says as though I haven’t said anything. “You should only enjoy the fruits of his labor, so to speak. Look how much happier your mother is now. She was miserable when she was working.”
I put a fist over my pounding heart. I feel like it’s going to break through my ribcage otherwise. “So? What does that have to do with me? She said she hated her job because she was working for an asshole boss at a small insurance company whose number one goal in life was to deny people’s claims. I’m not her, and I’m not working for her old boss!”
Dad’s expression remains the same indifferent, cold mask. Then I finally realize the truth—he doesn’t care how I feel.
“Is this why you didn’t beat the crap out of Court in Maui?”
He shrugs. “Court is perfect. He’s rich and young. Seems like a nice guy, and he must care about you to have gone all the way to Hawaii like he did. Your mother and I are both very pleased.”
I refuse to accept that Mom’s in this too. She’s always told me I should do what I want. Encouraged me to study math if that was what made me happy. “Does she know you’ve been ensuring I can’t do what I want with my life?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She and I agree on many things, especially when they concern you and your sister.”
All the air squeezes out of my lungs. Mom and Dad have always been very close, and I’ve never, ever seen them argue.
Suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. The fact that I wasted four years of my life here pounds into my head until I feel like my skull’s about to explode. “I’ll give you what you want. I quit.”
He smiles. And that makes me want to scream. But what did I expect? For him to tell me he’s sorry? Or that he’d give me the promotion I so richly deserve?
“Great decision!” he says. “Now go spend some time with Court.”
I’m tempted to tell him over my dead body, except that would be petty and childish. So I lift my chin and walk out with as much dignity as possible given the circumstances.
Megumi jumps up from her seat. “Pascal, are you feeling okay? You’re so pale.”
If the only thing she’s noticing is that I’m unusually pale, I’m doing a decent job of pulling myself together. There’s no way I’m falling apart right now. That’d be too humiliating. “I’m fine. Do you have a box I can borrow?”
“A box?”
“Yeah. Something about yay big. I just quit.” I realize my hands are shaking. I clench them and force a smile.
Her eyes grow owlish. “Oh my God, but why? You like working here.”
“Things have changed.”
“Pascal, I’m going to miss you.”
I stare at her. Her expression is positively dripping sympathy. But those two women from HR knew and never told me. How likely is it that Megumi didn’t know how Dad felt about me being here?
Part of me wants to rail at her. I thought she was a friend. But I don’t need to make a scene. Besides, what can Megumi do? Risk her job? “I’ll miss you too.” I force the words out between stiff lips.